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Tuesday, February 26, 2013
A broken leg in 1954
Here I am, aged 9 or 10 months, with my leg in traction in a Boston hospital, where I'm told I spent a month or two. It looks as if I was having a pretty good time!
I don't know who the friend is, but I guess it's another child who was a patient in the hospital. I don't think the broken leg was very painful any more by the time my Grandpa Ober took the pictures. Once it was set, I just had to hang out in the hospital in traction for a month or two until it healed.
I must have told you my mother's story about the day it happened. She came into the apartment and fell over a stroller that she didn't see because her arms were full of me and bags of groceries. She knew immediately from the way I cried that my leg was broken. She took me to the hospital and they initially suspected child abuse and kept sending different people to ask my mother to explain over and over again while -- as she told it -- I was crying hard with the broken leg unaddressed. Finally they believed her and set the leg and I stopped crying like magic. After the doctors left, according to my mother, a cleaning lady who was working nearby came up to her and said so kindly, "Oh, you poor dear," and my mother ended up weeping in her comforting arms.
2 comments:
Who is your friend? That looks painful.
I don't know who the friend is, but I guess it's another child who was a patient in the hospital. I don't think the broken leg was very painful any more by the time my Grandpa Ober took the pictures. Once it was set, I just had to hang out in the hospital in traction for a month or two until it healed.
I must have told you my mother's story about the day it happened. She came into the apartment and fell over a stroller that she didn't see because her arms were full of me and bags of groceries. She knew immediately from the way I cried that my leg was broken. She took me to the hospital and they initially suspected child abuse and kept sending different people to ask my mother to explain over and over again while -- as she told it -- I was crying hard with the broken leg unaddressed. Finally they believed her and set the leg and I stopped crying like magic. After the doctors left, according to my mother, a cleaning lady who was working nearby came up to her and said so kindly, "Oh, you poor dear," and my mother ended up weeping in her comforting arms.
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